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Celtic tiger unleashed
Malachy Clerkin



HIS first game in a shirt bearing the loopy tree insignia of Nottingham Forest was, famously, at Anfield. His first in a shirt bearing the trident-wielding imp of Manchester United took place at Wembley. This afternoon at just around midday, Roy Keane will walk out for his first game in a shirt bearing the four-leafed clover of Celtic at a ground that will be playable only because every night for the past five, the locals of Cumbernauld have come around after work to volunteer their services in covering the pitch. There's no cold like Scottish cold, after all, and Clyde FC isn't the kind of club that can afford to splash out on luxuries like under-soil heating.

And so the final movement in Keane's opera of a playing career will begin in the lowest key imaginable. Broadwood rather than Broadway. A shoebox of a ground fit to hold just over 8,000 frozen souls, the pitch hemmed in by stands on only three of its sides.

Strange though it may seem, he's not the biggest Celtic story of the week in Glasgow. He's barely even the second biggest.

Chris Sutton's move to Birmingham City and his pointed expression of gratitude towards Martin O'Neill but not towards Gordon Strachan has been exercising people's two-pint punditry since Wednesday. And the news that is present for a prize-giving night. But he's earned his salary and more this week.

Requests for accreditation have flowed in from journalists from 12 different countries for this game. As well as the major national newspapers from Scotland, England and Ireland, there have been applications from Holland, Belgium, Germany and beyond in Europe, some from America and even one from Australia (although Ruddy had a hard time believing it was genuine).

The possible debut of Chinese defender Du Wei has brought interest from Beijing and such was the demand from Japan that Celtic playmaker Shunsuke Nakamura personally took care of it that two tickets from his player's allowance went to members of the dozenstrong contingent who are permanently based in Glasgow to document his every move.

And all that's before radio and television have their space cleared. As Ruddy says, "It's fun and exciting and what have you, but there's just no chance I'll be able to fit everybody in."

Certainly not into a press box more used to dealing with single than triple figures. Consequently, some of Britain's sharpest-suited football writers will become reacquainted this afternoon with the reason their computers are called laptops as they sit among the punters. Considering some of the things written about him down the years, Keane would be forgiven a smile at that one.

There's been a sense in Glasgow all week, though, that this is a bigger deal for the outside world than it is for those who'll be around long after the cameras, laptops and accents have left. Maybe it's to do with the amount of time that has elapsed since he signed or maybe people simply have better things to be doing with their lives but Roymania hasn't quite taken a grip of the city yet. There are no huge displays bearing Keane's name in the Celtic shop in Sauchiehall Street (although the deal that brought him to Glasgow is said to be comfortably washing its face in shirt sales). There's no sign of 'I, Keano' in the theatre listings, no Gift Grub window display in HMV.

Even Celtic's training has had to be curtailed a touch, half their training pitch having been found to be unplayable for Strachan's last pre-game session due to a Thursday night frost. There have been no bells, no whistles, no fanfares this week. No baying crowds at Parkhead, no swarms of autograph hunters surrounding him after training. All of which is much, you'd have thought, as Keane would want it and about as far removed from the Bernabeu as it's possible to get.

A similar atmosphere prevails . . . more so, indeed . . . on the other side of the green/blue divide. In the Rangers shop on (naturally) the far side of Sauchiehall Street, questions of Keane are met with a blaze of indifference. "We couldnae give a shit aboot him, " says Jim, a 19-year-old Blue as he hands over a fiver for a set of Rangers golf tees. "We'll see him in February, won't we? It's too early in the year to be botherin' wi' that shite yet."

Jim is not alone. A straw poll conducted along the staunch Rangers pubs of Paisley Road West . . . The Clachan, The Grapes and The District . . .

elicits nothing more than the early-January shrugs of men just trying to get over the Christmas and New Year in peace, thank you very much.

"You wouldnae do a story on Rangers agin' Peterheed, would you?" is about the most worked up anyone manages to get. It is decided that, on balance, Tribune readers probably wouldnae be into such a piece.

He'll start today, the bits and pieces of speculation as to his match-fitness or lack thereof notwithstanding. Stilian Petrov's injury has, for the moment, saved Strachan biting a bullet that probably doesn't look particularly appetising to him. There'll come a time, though, when Petrov, Keane and Neil Lennon are all present and correct.

Strachan has sworn that he won't change his formation and that he hasn't bought Keane as a centre-half. Trouble may be stewing, like good strong tea.

But if there is, Strachan gave little indication of it when he sat down with the press in the Jock Stein Suite on the third




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